


Bitches Fix Stitches

by perceptivefics



Series: A Series of Shoulders [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Implied Kankri/Meulin flushed crush, Implied abusive behavior, Implied messy Kurloz/Meulin, M/M, Mild use of chucklevoodoo, Possessive Behavior, Quadrant Confusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 03:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11028099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perceptivefics/pseuds/perceptivefics
Summary: [Are you red for her?]Kankri blinked at his hands, then at him. His mouth stopped moving for what felt like forever, though it may have only been a few seconds. “Excuse me?”[Motherfucker.]Kurloz signed slower now, in addition to spelling things outright. Kankri couldn’t tell how much of it was frustration and how much of it was mocking him for asking the question.[Are you. R E D. For her.]





	Bitches Fix Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> This somehow ended up being a two-parter, so uhhhhh build-up this chapter and resolution on the next one hopefully so HERE YOU GO

Kankri was never much for Kurloz’s presence during _or_ after dying, even on a good day. In the event that there would be a grouping of them all gathered together, he could tolerate the purpleblood’s presence well enough, choosing in general to distract himself with others who were available. But if Kurloz showed up navigating the same dream bubble while _alone,_ Kankri would smile - politely, of course - and then he would turn around and find the very first exit out. Others that knew him were content to assume this stemmed from the same reason why Cronus and a handful of others avoided him at all costs: Kurloz Makara, the tall, unnerving silent one, who hovered just a little too much and had a thousand-yard stare that made even the warmest lowblood freeze cold. He was too weird, too creepy, and a few remembered him doing _things_ throughout the events of their session that still chilled them down to their very bones.

 

None of that was important to Kankri, though. His avoidance was based purely on principle. Put simply, he didn’t agree with the way Kurloz treated others around him, especially those he claimed to be very close to. Example: he _very especially_ did not like when Kurloz cornered him for advice, like a hunting beast stalking his prey.

 

Kind of like right now, in fact.

 

Kankri remained curled up in a soft, squishy nest-chair inside a dream mock-up of his “hive”, eyes down with his focus buried into the book he was reading. He heard another drumming, then a scraping at the fluff of the chair from the taller troll kneeling next to him - but he ignored that entirely. Kurloz had been padding around after him in this dream bubble for quite a while now, ever since he entered it, and Kankri had defaulted to the standard reaction of avoiding him as much as possible. Words were exchanged, though only somewhere along the lines of _Kurloz, please leave the premises, you are intensely unwelcome here._ Kankri refused to leave because this bubble was supposed to be his home. If anything, _Kurloz_ should be the one to go, logically.

 

The tense stillness between them kept up until there was a soft, nasal sigh, coupled by a pair of bony gloved fingers tapping him on the shoulder.

 

He twisted away in an instant, and shot Kurloz a warning glare. “This is your first warning, and I fully expect you to accept it and not do that again. Don’t touch me.”

 

Kurloz pursed his stitched lips thin, hands moving in a slow series of signs. Though the two of them rarely interacted, Kankri still made it a point to learn this method of communication as a matter of inclusivity and respect. More for another’s benefit than Kurloz’s, though. But he wasn’t as quick to keep up as Meulin; a fact both she and Kurloz took into account with their signing.

 

_[I can’t talk to you if you don’t look at me.]_

 

“Exactly.” Replied Kankri, giving Kurloz a meaningful stare.

 

Kurloz’s mouth pulled into a soft frown. _[That’s seriously stone cold of you, brother.]_ He paused, then added, _[And rude.]_

 

“It isn't rude! I made my desires very clear from the beginning.” Kankri said, “And you started this whole mess.”

 

 _[If you didn’t want to talk to me, you could just say so,]_ Kurloz pointed out.

 

Kankri flicked his hands up, a scowl pressing into his features. “I did, yet here you are continuing to accost me for your time! Thus, seeing as being frank with you about my desires yields no results, I resorted to simply pretending you aren’t there. And clearly that hasn’t worked, either!”

 

The purpleblood made a face, painted features twisting into a frustrated expression, but he persisted with some more insistent hand signs. _[I just have a few questions for you and then I’ll be out of your hair. Scratch my back, I scratch yours?]_

 

“Everyone has questions,” Kankri shot back. “They are rarely interested in hearing my answers.”

 

_[Well, this dude is down with all the listenin’, brother.]_

 

“Well, I am not _down_ with giving you advice!” The slang speech, mild though it was, stuck to the inside of Kankri’s mouth like awkward cotton. His face scrunched as he said it before settling again. “Which I told you already! Very explicitly! Now if your hearing sponges have not gone completely defunct, I must ask you once again to leave!”

 

Kurloz’s scowl deepened. He originally sought out Kankri for a matter not at all related to this argument; but just like every other time he tried to extend an olive branch, (usually at Meulin’s behest) or ask for advice, the mutant-blood shut him down with cold silence and blatant bad manners. All he wanted today was to ask a few probing questions about his visions from their old session. It was a last-ditch effort to try and make some progress with the wordy bastard. Kurloz assumed that Kankri would be more amicable because the subject of choice was entirely centered around _him,_ but it would appear that was very incorrect.

 

His frustration was made manifest in the abrupt, choppy nature of his signing. The bad hearing sponges remark cut him harder than he would admit. However, motivational though it was, Kurloz was less interested in catching Kankri in his own #AbleistLanguage and more in cutting to the heart of his difficult behavior.

 

_[Son, I ain’t done fuckin’ shit to you and you treat me lower than the squirmbeasts in the dirt. What is your motherfuckin’ problem?]_

 

“Language,” Kankri corrected. He _had_ to know that pissed him off, thought Kurloz. There was just no reason to nitpick him like that other than the sheer joy of making him suffer. He flipped up two spindly middle fingers to show Kankri just what he thought of such a play. Kankri continued on anyway. “As for my _problem,_ I’m of no obligation to explain my feelings to you in any way!”

 

 _[That sounds like a dodge if I ever did hear one.]_ Remarked Kurloz, milked-over eyes narrowing in suspicion.

 

Kankri’s eyebrows went up as he gasped and smiled. It was somehow quite cutting. “Wonderful! You still possess  _some_ basic comprehension skills!”

 

The first guttural notes of a growl rumbled from Kurloz’s chest. He saw a twitching in Kankri’s fingertips, but no reaction beyond that. _[Why are you being such a prick? I thought you were supposed to be the one among us who was all up in arms about propriety and inclusivity and motherfucking sensitivity training.]_

 

“I am of no mind to treat you with courtesy when you give others around you such poor treatment.” Kankri replied, and _God_ how Kurloz hated that self-righteous tone that was starting to take. Like he was some fucking school-starved wriggler plucked off the streets for culling and Kankri was setting up to home-feed him until his thinkpan dribbled out his ears. When he huffed it sounded like a hiss. His mouth began to pucker and purse by habit in imitation of the words he wouldn’t speak.

 

 _[Who?]_ He demanded. _[Who am I treating so motherfuckin’ bad that you’d be this shitty to me?]_

 

“Kurloz, I am not discussing this with you,” Kankri grumbled back.

 

A bubble of bitter laughter caught in Kurloz’s throat. For a moment, Kankri froze, because any sort of noise from the normally-soundless troll was a startling sort of revelation in itself. _[Funny joke!]_ He signed, aching with sarcasm. _[So fuckin’ happy to toss your accusations around all careless-like without telling me why!]_

 

Kankri was starting to miss a good portion of what Kurloz was saying because his signing speed had picked up. He did catch the swearing, though, and the part about accusations, so he focused on that. “They are not accusations, and I am not _careless._ And I told you to watch your language!”

 

Kurloz’s eyes flashed with a rage that was trapped just below the surface. He signed something extremely raucous and raunchy and Kankri’s eyes bulged wide. “Okay, I have no idea what you just said, but it was obviously very rude and inappropriate!”

 

 _[Motherfucker,_ you’re _inappropriate,]_ Kurloz snipped.

 

“ _You’re_ -” Kankri started, his words an abrupt squawk of noise, and then he stopped. Kurloz leaned forward with eyebrows raised, expecting him to finish his thought. He stuttered instead, and had Kurloz flicking out one goat-like ear beneath fluffy void-black hair, cupping his hand to it in mockery for the trouble. The gesture struck him so much that Kankri, instead of sticking to his initial hesitant convictions, snapped his book shut and started to wriggle out of his seat.

 

Kurloz, in a show of behavior that was (in Kankri’s opinion) deplorably primitive, followed him and blocked his path as he signed: _[Where are you going?]_

 

“I am leaving.” He said, leaving no room for debate. “This conversation is not constructive, and you are terrible company, and your responses are toeing a dangerous line of caliginous advances that I have zero interest in reciprocating!”

 

At first, Kurloz’s ears pricked up almost as high as his horns in shock. As it sank in what Kankri was implying - what he was _accusing_ Kurloz of doing - he felt a deep, roiling pool of hatred rustling his nerves. Not in a spades kind of way though; just the kind of way that said the lowblood (if he could even be called that) deserved to have his throat clamped shut. Permanently.

 

 _[We ain’t havin’ no motherfuckin’ caliginous advances in here.]_ Kurloz signed, taking care to do so slow enough to be annoying, but also so Kankri would understand him. _[We’re having one wicked bitch of a fuckin’ disagreement, but it sure as shit ain’t that kind of black.]_

 

Kankri clutched his book against his chest, glowering as he stood in place, his posture antsy and keyed up high from nerves and irritation. “You can say that all you like! It doesn’t change the fact that you have made me uncomfortable! I’ve seen what you do to trolls in your concupiscent quadrants, Kurloz, and given what I have heard of your advancements, I feel I have perfectly legitimate reason to be concerned!”

 

 _That_ caught his attention, though at first, he wasn’t sure how to process it. Kankri wasn’t either, it seemed. In fact, by the shock on his face, he had just blown the door wide open on something he never meant to address in the first place.

 

Too late to take it back, now.

 

Kankri tried again to leave the area, but Kurloz stepped in front of him smooth as butter, leaving Kankri to wonder how the hell he’d gotten so languid and fast when he was almost as awkward-bodied as Mituna. _[What in the name of the Mirthful Messiahs are you motherfuckin’ talking about?]_

 

He didn’t say anything. He’d already said too much. Mouth got ahead of his brain, he hadn’t thought it through, and now he was paying for it with Kurloz’s heavy-lidded stare boring straight into him, body hovering over his, a tower of cold intimidation walling him off from his only exit like a barkbeast waiting to pounce a meal. He stood there and tried not to shiver. Tried to put off an air of confidence that might buck back a little against a highblood’s naturally oppressive presence. But he had his arms around his book and his ears pinned back beneath whorls of short, wavy hair, and Kankri knew he was the very picture of something cowed despite his best efforts. He was almost ashamed of himself for even trying.

 

Kurloz waited, again wearing that expectant look. Almost _demanding_ Kankri to spare the time needed to explain. When it became clear he wouldn’t leave this dream bubble without a few words on the subject at the minimum, Kankri - in time - swallowed down his nerves and spoke.

 

“She can’t be yours when she’s not _yours_ anymore, Kurloz.”

 

Kankri braced for the storm before it even hit. It was a reflex, giving away his fear of repercussion. But it clicked all the same, and Kurloz stared down at him in alarm. His hand lifted and he gestured the name-sign belonging to the girl they both knew: the sweet kitten he knew Kankri must be talking about. It was a _bold_ thing to say, especially coming from one such as himself - a tiny, hot-blooded troll who didn’t even exist on the hemospectrum? Speaking out against a _highblood_ (not just _any_ highblood, either, but the _highest_ one could be without growing gills and fins) about how to handle his quadrants? Even in the context of their cultural upbringing, there would have been riots in the streets.

 

And the implication of Kankri’s claim didn’t sit well with Kurloz. He narrowed his eyes. Kankri heard another growl. _[Ain’t nothin’ I’m doing to stop her from expanding her horizons, brother.]_

 

It may have been the sheer gall of Kurloz’s disinterest that prompted Kankri to argue. It went against all better judgment, of course. “You don’t have to! You aren’t doing anything to stop her because you stop everyone else before they can even try!”

 

 _[You’re so full of shit.]_ Kurloz accused, _[Stuffed to bursting so fuckin’ bad. Probably from that huge stick you got crammed up your waste chute.]_

 

“Am I?” Kankri demanded, leering at Kurloz. He still clutched his book as if it might protect him. “When you spend all your time with her making vaguely-red, vaguely-pale, not-quite-either actions, marking her with your smell like she’s still yours to mark, what do you _think_ you are doing? I frankly can’t believe she even lets you get away with it! It’s almost depressing, how deep her pity must run, to allow _that much_ noncommittal advancement!”

 

 _[Sure sounds to me like you’re sticking your nose in where it’s got no motherfuckin’ business being,]_ Kurloz signed, words accompanied by another chest-rattling growl. _[And I ain’t hurting a soul, sinner or saint, regardless. Nobody’s made a move. And she’s happy with the way things are.]_

 

“She says she’s happy because it’s what keeps _you_ happy!” Kankri cried. “And again! Beating off others’ advances with a proverbial stick before they can start! She stinks of you every time she leaves your hive, and not in any innocent social connotation, either!”

 

 _[So?]_ Kurloz made a flippant gesture before he went on. _[How is that any of your business?]_

 

“How is it _not?!_ ” Kankri exclaimed. “We spend time together at least in _some_ capacity, and _dammit,_ we’re stuck in this accursed maze of memories and half-worlds until the end of eternity and we are the only twelve _in_ it who know each other!”

 

He kept going. He missed the way Kurloz’s eyebrows pressed together, how he sniffed the air, and something akin to recognition had crossed his face. Kankri wasn’t even watching his own scent as he spoke. “We are _all_ involved in one another’s lives and well-being, whether we asked to be or not! And what you’re doing is not only pointless, it’s _brutish_ , and downright cruel!”

 

Kurloz stopped him dead with his next question.

 

_[Are you red for her?]_

 

Kankri blinked at his hands, then at him. His mouth stopped moving for what felt like forever, though it may have only been a few seconds. “Excuse me?”

 

 _[Motherfucker.]_ Kurloz signed slower now, in addition to spelling things outright. Kankri couldn’t tell how much of it was frustration and how much of it was mocking him for asking the question. _[Are you. R E D. For her.]_

 

He searched Kankri's face for any sign of confirmation or denial. It was all Kurloz could focus on - Kankri _felt_ it, which made it that much harder for him to provide an articulate response. In the end, perhaps he didn't need to: he had shame in his eyes and heat in his cheeks and it became too difficult to even look at Kurloz.

 

A few things happened following this silent exchange of information.

 

First: a literal chill descended on the air around them for reasons Kankri couldn't explain right away. But when he looked up, and saw the rapid flicker of rich purple in Kurloz's eyes, of course it all made sense. So did the shiver that coiled between his shoulder blades and rocketed down his spine, made him grasp his book until his knuckles blanched as he sucked in air. Living or dead, Kankri put as much stock in the state of his health as the next troll.

 

Which led to the second point. In the next instant, when he backed away a few steps and Kurloz followed him, he wasn't sure what corner of his mind he retreated to, but Kankri vaguely remembered something as a result. Thoughts surfaced in his thinkpan of an excerpt he'd read in a book long ago - _so long ago,_ now - about trolls in varying placements on the hemospectrum and their innate differences in behavior. The book was more a scientific paper than anything else, written by some seadweller Kankri could no longer remember the name of. It originally sought to answer the question of how much a troll's behavior was informed by society versus how much it was informed by basic instinct.

 

Kankri wasn't sure how biased or unbiased the book's findings were, nor could he recall the ultimate conclusion the writer had transcribed. But there was something that stuck to him now about highbloods, lowbloods, and the vast divide between them in some primal behaviors. Possessiveness over quadrants, for example, was a given - even in Beforan society. However, the theory went that the higher one was born, the more territorial they became. And again, Kankri certainly wasn't willing to accept that as indisputable truth without a heaping pile full of caution. He could, however, recognize over-possessive behavior when he saw it. And even if this deep-set, supposedly instinctual brainspace of _Mine Mine Mine_ didn't belong to _every_ highblood, he could see the fury in Kurloz's eyes as he considered the idea of Kankri moving in on Meulin's red quadrant. It was downright impossible to imagine Kurloz giving up _any_ ground in his failed, dead-end matespritship. _Ever._

 

"Kurloz -" Kankri started to talk. He was cut off when a swimming sensation of terror locked into his thinkpan. He would be able to see the crawling veins of violet around his eyes if he had a mirror - as it was, he only felt his body going catatonic from the white-hot freeze of Kurloz's chucklevoodoo. Loud words scraped along the inside of his skull like shards of glass cracking a crystal goblet. It took all of his effort just to retain some semblance of motor control.

 

**BOLD MOTHERFUCKING TALK, BROTHER, FROM A TROLL CAN'T EVEN STAKE HIS CLAIM WITHOUT TREMBLING**

 

Kankri released his book without wanting to. Kurloz was close enough to do whatever he wanted to him. He started by twisting up a fistful of Kankri's hair, making him yelp, lifting him until he was forced to stand on his toes.

 

It was a struggle to speak, because Kurloz didn't _want_ him to speak. He was rather surprised when Kankri defied him anyway. "Sssshhh-She deserves to have everything she wants!"

 

**SHE AIN'T YOURS TO TAKE**

 

Kankri gasped, lungs screaming for air. It was getting harder to breathe. "Wasn't - going - to take! The _right_ \- thing to do - is _ask!"_

 

Kurloz snarled, leaning in until their noses almost touched. His stitches were pulled tight and Kankri could see hints of vicious teeth as he struggled, legs kicking, trying to get them planted again when Kurloz was so much stronger than him.

 

**YOU AREN'T RIGHT FOR HER**

 

"She d-doesn't need your permission!" Kankri reached up with his hands, burying them in his hair, trying to wedge them between Kurloz's fingers. He was not successful, but the adrenaline rush was starting to kick in - and there was something about the self-confident tone in the other's claims that was striking a match in him. Kurloz was impressed at his moxy, but not worried enough to consider him a threat. Maybe he should have paid more attention to how high he held Kankri's head.

 

**I DON'T GIVE WHAT'S NEVER NEEDED, SEER**

**I JUST FUCKING KNOW THAT FACTS ARE FACTS CAN'T BE CHANGED**

**AND I KNOW FACT IS, YOU AIN'T MOTHERFUCKING RIGHT FOR HER**

 

Kankri bared his teeth in a visceral defensive display. "I'm not afraid of you."

 

**MOTHERFUCKER, YOU SHOULD BE.**

 

In a twist of events that only a few would ever anticipate as even remotely plausible, two sounds followed: a sharp hiss, and a gasp of pain. They were separate, though spanned only breaths apart from each other. It wasn't Kankri that made the gasping noise, though, because it wasn't Kankri who had his foot stomped down on.

 

The chucklevoodoo link broke instantly. A moment of surprise that should have been accounted for; a weakness Kurloz would feel ashamed to remember for a whole eternity to come. But not nearly as ashamed as he could be. Losing control over something as trivial as a stubbed toe was already bad enough, but nothing he couldn't gain back with some parlor tricks and a few days alone in his hive nursing his own pride.

 

What hurt worse than that - literally and figuratively - was when Kankri balled up his hand and swung as hard as he could.

 

There was a dull thump as his knuckles connected with Kurloz's face. Right in the kisser - in the most obvious sense of the phrase. Kankri thought he felt some snappings underneath his fist, but it was hard to tell. Everything happened so fast. He knew he clocked Kurloz square in the mouth, that the highblood released a grunt from impact, and that he stumbled back with both hands over his face. Kankri gasped as breathing became easier, coughing a little, thinkpan muddy from the after-haze as he fumbled for his book. It wasn't until he was upright again, hands shaking, that the smell of blood curdled in his nose.

 

Kurloz let loose a low noise that was almost a howl, but too soft to carry far. Kankri hated to wonder whether that was a sound of alarm or anger, and didn't care to theorize any further. A fortuitous intersection of dream bubbles alerted him of his opportunity in the many puzzling and confusing ways the dream bubbles preferred to do. He took the safest way out and fled, disappearing into whatever new dreamscape the afterlife had in store for him.


End file.
